


Strong and Stable

by PiratePichu



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Fuller feast, HannibalxWill, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Murder Husbands, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2018-11-21 18:21:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11363022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiratePichu/pseuds/PiratePichu
Summary: Will and the FBI are hunting a killer who targets men he takes an interest in. Things go left when that interest falls on Will Graham.I've been working on this slow burn story for super long! I'm excited to release a chapter a day until July 2nd for Fuller Feast! Please enjoy!(It is implied that previous victims of this killer have been raped, so I have added the rape/non con warning tag, but there is no explicit scenes of rape, and none of the characters are raped within this story.)





	1. Victims

Will was tired. He hadn’t had a comfortable sleep since the Hobbs case, and even then sleep had never really been fulfilling. He had been daydreaming more often, about visiting Abigail, and taking care of her, about finding some good way to apologize to her for everything. Lately he got his best meals at Doctor Lecter’s place. Despite Hannibal’s dark Gothic home, he felt comfortable there. Maybe it was just because he was always close to Hannibal, his therapist, whose job it was to make him feel secure. Maybe therapy actually was working on him. Will looked up. The lecture hall was empty, which was good, Will could focus in empty rooms. He reached for a bottle of- something whatever could tame his unshakable hangover, and grabbed a case file. He watched the pictures and notes spill from its opening before setting it aside. He sighed, swallowing two pills and looking back on the notes. All of the victims were men, early 30’s, good looking, all of them were reportedly in same-sex relationships before they were-

“Will?” Will stopped, turning slowly from his work. Dr.Lecter stood in the doorway, his coat wrapped neatly in his arms.

“Will.” The man said again, walking towards him, “I’ve been calling to you for quite some time.” Will stared at him hazily. He was well-dressed as always. his darkly striped jacket hid a blue vest, and a tie.

“Sorry, Dr.Lecter, I was focusing on” he took a second to spread his arms to the pictures scattered across the table, “this.” Hannibal looked at him cautiously.

“Jack Crawford told me you woke up by a river.”

“It wasn’t a river, it was a lake.” Will corrected, still facing the pictures.

“I must insist that you tell me whenever you wake up in strange places, Will.” He rolled his eyes. 

Hannibal held his gaze silently before turning to the pictures as well. He picked one up, examining it.

“The killer sprawled this body out on the bed..” 

“Yes.” Will interrupted “Yes, that’s his style, he kills men in their prime, and leaves them in some type of- sexual position.” 

“Sexual insecurity is most usually the violent blossom of abuse.” Hannibal said, placing the picture down.

“All killers have been abused in some way..” Will replied with a shake of his head. “This one was just abused in the most obvious way.”

“This man..” Hannibal paused for a moment, “Is unsure of himself in all other fields.”

“Yes,” Will said “B-C student, community college, social outcast, no real romantic relationships just fantasies.”

“But he is sure of himself when he kills. Death is where he lives out these fantasies.” Will pondered the theory. If he was ever forced to work with someone, he’d hope to it would be with Dr. Lecter, he had a way of making the pieces fit a little easier. 

“Will?” Jack Crawford stood at the doorway catching his breath, “We found another body, Dr. Lecter, you’re free to join us.”

“I think I will.” Hannibal said with a smile.

It took them about 30 minutes to get to the site of the murder with the help of an ambulance and FBI cars. Will stepped out, looking at the house in front of him. Jack walked to the front steps and swung the door open. 

“He’s in the bedroom.” Jack said. Will barely nodded.

“Where’s Hannibal?” Will asked, navigating his way through the house. Jack paused, peaking out a window.

“He just got here, I’ll tell him to come on in when you finished examining the body.” Jack said. Will thanked him. The bedroom door was already opened. Beverly Katz stood behind Dr.Price and Zeller. Her eyes searching up and down the body.

The man laid naked over the sheet of his bed, a wound stung from his leg. His hands and ankles were held with handcuffs. 

“His name was Paul Raton. The killer entered the home, shot him in the leg, stripped him down and tied him up. A ball gag was lodged into his throat.” Katz stated, walking to Will.

“Classy.” Zeller said.

“Extremely. Then our killer raped him, and let him bleed out all over the bed sheets.” Price finished up.  
“Poor bastard.” Jack said under his breath. With a sigh, he waved a finger “Alright, everybody out.”

Will listened to them file out of the room. He closed his eyes.

I step into the bedroom. I know that Paul will be waiting there. But not for me, he is happy with his sin. That's why he has to die. Will lifted a pistol. I shoot Paul Raton in the leg, he pounced on the body, grabbing for his hands first. I tie him to the bedposts, I prepare him for me. When he dies and passes on to the angels I breath a deep sigh of relief and start to tie is his limbs up like a turkey. I think I hear something. Something's wrong. I kiss him on the forehead and save him for later. This is my design.

Will stepped out of the bedroom, wiping sweat from his forehead. Jack stood waiting and behind him, Hannibal, looking calmly out the window. 

“What did you see Will?” Jack asked.

“It’s the same killer. He is angry and jealous of his victims. He believes killing them is righteous.” Will took a moment to breath, “He also didn’t finish the job.”

“So he’ll be back.” Jack said quietly. Will nodded. “Will you take a look at the body, Dr.Lecter?”

Hannibal nodded.

Hannibal turned to Will, a thin smile gracing his lips

“I will meet you outside in just a moment.”

Will held his jacket closer to him, it was mid fall, the outside air was getting colder. The last of the tree’s leaves were wilting into a dirty brown. He enjoyed the fall, it was a good time to hunt, and lavish in the new warm palette of the environment. He wondered, for a moment, if he could take Abigail out to a forest. They could find a nice opening between oak trees to lay out a blanket, maybe near a river, where they could settle down and he could teach her how to fish. Alana would come with them, humming gentle tunes behind the two and encouraging them the way she does with that cute smile and her hair brushed back. Hannibal could come later, with ingredients, spices, extra chairs and blankets. Maybe he could show Abigail how to light a fire, and on that fire, Hannibal could cook the fat fish they caught together. He’d show off with vegetables and techniques from all around the world. Maybe they could eat and chat together for a little while.

“Thank you for waiting Will.” Hannibal stepped out of the house, pulling on his thick jacket.

“No problem. Did you notice anything?” Will asked as they walked away from the house.

“No, you and the FBI were quite thorough. The killer is around the same age as his victims and will be back sometime soon.” Will grimaced as they wandered.

“I can’t wait for that confrontation.” He said only semi-sarcastically. Hannibal looked at him, as if he was contemplating a good question to pose. 

“Excuse me?” A man’s voice cut cleanly through Hannibal’s thoughts. They turned to face the man. He was slender, his hair flat and flopped forward to cover much of his forehead. His clothes were loose, and hung off the man like baggage.

“Do you know what’s happening? Is Paul alright?” The man asked looking to Hannibal then Will expectantly.

“What’s your name?” Will asked, his voice edging on intensity.

“Will.” Hannibal warned.

“Each victim had a partner Hannibal maybe- what’s your name?” Will pressed again.

“My-My name’s Anthony. I live here. What do you mean victim? What’s going on?” Anthony said, staring at Will.

“Anthony, Paul Raton is dead.” Will said, blinking quickly. He turned his full attention to the man. He watched dread slip into the his eyes, watched his spirit crumple. Tears fell onto Anthony’s baggy clothes, Will watched him plummet.


	2. Sweat and Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please enjoy!

Hannibal watched Anthony. He was on his knees in the mud and dirt outside what he said was his house. Will watched him too, then awkwardly ask the man to stand and talk to the police. Anthony stood on his own, nodding between sniffles. There was something off about the man that he couldn’t quite place, and it made the man interesting. He smelled him as he went by, his eyes trying to put an image to his scent. His smell was odd. Will turned to him gruffly. 

“What is it Will?” Hannibal asked.

“It’s nothing.” Will responded with a shake, he gave him a tired, crumpled smile then a chuckle.

“Hannibal, do you think we’d be able to take Abigail out to the woods?” Will asked.

“I don’t see why not.” Hannibal said.

“Do you think there’s any chance Alana would go too.” Will asked a little quieter.. Hannibal made a mental note to write this down the little encounter later. His conversations with Will were almost always interesting, even when they weren’t talking about murder weapons and blood stained killers.  
Blood.. He thought, he looked back at Anthony for a moment. Anthony smelled of blood and sweat. He smelled like a murderer. He snapped back to Will’s question.

“We’ll have to see what we can do. I’m sure we can convince her a day in nature could have some healing effects on Abigail.” He said. Will nodded, almost hopefully. Hannibal turned back to where Anthony whimpered off to. He seemed to be finishing up, looking back at him and, with much more interest, at Will. Hannibal felt something defensive rise up toward the way he stared at him. It made him want to string him up. Usually, he’d make movements to drive killer’s urges onwards. However, there was something about Anthony that made him an unattractive man to assist, past the way he stared at Will. He didn’t find the lanky man particularly well mannered, and he wasn't much of a fan of rape. There are far more entertaining ways to make someone sleep with you, forcing them is giving up. Without the obvious bent up passion he released, his crimes would be rather dull. 

“Will.” Hannibal started, he turned and locked eyes with the man, pausing to let himself to enjoy the attention.

“There was something strange involving Anthony, though it took a few seconds for it to become apparent to me.” Hannibal said. Will looked at him, his eyes bracing for any new information.

“That young man reeked of blood.” Hannibal said simply, then paused, “If I may make a suggestion, I-”  
A crack interrupted him. A gunshot like a jab of thunder. They turned. Anthony ran towards the two at a pace much faster than what the man’s legs looked to be able to achieve. A gun perched easily in his fingers. He had missed Will’s torso by an inch. Of course. Hannibal thought looking to Will then Anthony. "Will" Hannibal grunted, pushing him away from the next bullet. Anthony swore, his eyes locked with a wide-eyed Will. He took a short breath, his eyes flashing angrily at Will’s before he ran for the forest. Will struggled for his gun, drawing it and shooting once, twice, three times. Hannibal watched him slip into trance, shooting at trees, and bushes and autumn leaves melting down to Earth.

“That’s enough Will.” He stopped at his voice, seeing the twenty some shells scattered across the dirt. Hannibal looked at him, holding his lower hip tightly. Blood stuck to his palm.

“Hannibal?” Will whispered, and for the first time he saw right through him. Hannibal felt his chest tighten, the dread in his voice lingering with him. He was supposed to be a role model, and yet he hung over supporting a hip wound, his posture must have looked atrocious. He felt his body labor out heavy breaths.  
“Hannibal!” The bullet wound stung, and the adrenaline that had entered his body at the moment of the shooting was fading quickly. Hannibal straightened out his back, walking slowly to the ambulance. Will was on his heels, his breathing matching the stress of each of Hannibal’s step. He allowed himself a small grunt, before his knees buckled in on themselves. Will grabbed him with both arms, heaving him up from his lower back.

He allowed Will to help him, let his tense arm slip under his own and lift him to his feet. He could feel his hands shaking against the cold. Will brought Hannibal’s head up close to his mouth.

“It’s alright- It’s alright, you're gonna be okay, keep your hand on that, thanks, yes, it’s gonna be alright.” Will’s voice shook like his hands. It pleased him, the idea that Will was shaking because of him.


	3. Guilty Minutes

The night stretched on, far past its normal expiration date. Will had walked with Hannibal, allowed him to be shot, and sped back with him towards a hospital all within the span of an hour and a half. It was exactly 7:34 when Will entered the hospital’s waiting room, he remembered this only because of one of the patronizingly simple techniques Hannibal had suggested to him under his care.

“It’s 7:34 PM, I am in Baltimore Maryland, My name is Will Graham.” Will whispered quietly, rolling and re-rolling a magazine in his hands. Somewhere around 10:21, a hand grasped his shoulder, shaking him from a particularly detailed daydream. Jack stood above him, his hand quickly leaving from its position once he had Will’s attention. 

“Good morning Will.” He joked. Will double checked the clock. “They just finished up with Dr. Lecter,” Jack continued, “Nurses said the surgery went really well, so that’s a blessing, he’s asleep, but I can show you his room if you want.” Will nodded.

Walking into Hannibal’s room was odd. Seeing the man himself, lying on a plain white bed in a plainer room was even stranger. Class was commonplace when it came to Hannibal, he brewed his own beer, helped design his house inside and out, and knew the names of all kinds of wines from all over the world. The man never left the house without some type of business jacket, Will suspected he had designer sleepwear as well. He sat on a small chair at one side of the bed, barely acknowledging Jack as he left to speak with a nurse. Will looked at Hannibal’s unconscious form again. Weirdly, he expected the man to look- weaker. Somehow, despite being unconscious, wounded, and underdressed, he still seemed to have a subtle, radiant control of the situation. Like being shot was part of some master plan he had complete faith in.

He watched Hannibal’s chest, his breaths rhythmical, like the beat of a slow song. His expression was ever passive, but the angles in his cheeks seemed to relax. Every once in awhile he’d hear the man let out some soft noise, a murmur or snore so gentle it might well have been a purr. After one minute in the room he noticed the man’s cologne was slowly beginning to fade. In another, he discovered Hannibal was much more muscular around the arms then he first thought. His chest too, was firm and lean against the white blankets, and his neck was so much longer and more tender without the collar and the jacket. In ten minutes he realized had been actively checking out an unconscious man (a friend for God’s sake.) It was around that time Will decided to leave him, to find Jack for a ride home.

Will stepped out of Jack’s car, leaves whispering around him. When he came to his front porch the dogs erupted with life, barking greetings as he brushed their heads. He pushed past the mass of furry bodies until he reached his bed. When he laid down something papery crinkled on his pillow. He switched on his lamp. A letter. He set it down near a bottle of scotch he took a long drink from. It was late, he was tired, he'd report it in tomorrow. Will switched off the light and laid back down. Hannibal is okay. Hannibal is okay. It’s 1:25 AM, I am in Wolf Trap, Virginia, My name is Will Graham  
\- -  
Will dreamt himself in his house, but it was changed. Not in the usual, bloody-elk-death way, but in a nice way. The dream sheets of his bed had Christmas trees sewn to the rims, with fabric so soft he, for once, didn’t want to leave the bed. He rolled on his side, a dream indentation was left on the other half of his mattress, the sheets were lightly crumpled. He wondered to himself, as he got out of bed, who had he been sleeping with? He slipped on a pair of pajama pants and walked to a decorated dining room. A pine cone sat in the center of the dining table near a few candles, burning giddily and making the place smell like vanilla. There was a mug on the edge of the festively clothed table. And the smell of Italian coffee mixed wonderfully with the candles. On another, fancier table by the fireplace, he realized a record player sat, playing some Opera at a semi soft volume. It was something with lots of violins, flutes, and a woman singing deeply.

The door swung open, and in trudged a snowy dream Hannibal with a fur hat. Giving a slight heave, he dropped the wood he was carrying by the fireplace, and, not hummed, not spoke, but sang along with the woman. He added wood to the fire enthusiastically, his voice drifting about like dark candy. He turned to Will with a smile.

“Good morning Will.” He said, brushing off his business pants and pulling off his coat. Happily, his dream self responded,

“Good morning Hannibal.”

“Do you recognize this concert, Will?” Hannibal said, picking up his mug from the table.

“Vakula the Smith, a guilty pleasure of mine.” He answered his own question with a smile,

“An opera about the Devil’s meddlings with man, with a rather cliche Christmas ending. I’ve always found it charming.” Hannibal continued to smile, sipping some of his coffee. Will found himself stepping closer to Hannibal, putting a hand on his hips. They rested well, Hannibal smiled down at him. He ran a thumb across his cheek.

“Did you have a nightmare, Will?” He said, concern, real concern, dripping off his voice.

“Yeah.” Will said quietly. “But it’s over now. It’s over.” And without even registering it, he reached up to kiss him. It was gentle and warm, like the sheets of his bed. He realized then just how much he enjoyed it. Hannibal rubbed the side of his neck, then stopped. He turned, his eyes lit up. He pushed Will to the floor. A crack erupted through the scene. Will stood up. Anthony was at their window, wagging a finger as Hannibal collapsed onto him. This time, it wasn’t a small hole that soaked his pant leg, it was a cavern in his leg. Will could see the bone. Hannibal sputtered, unlatching his arms from Will’s shoulder and dragging himself to the sofa by the fireplace.

“Are you alright Will.” He said again and again. Will stayed at his side, told him “Yes, yes I’m fine. But you’re not. I’m fine. You're not.”

“Get some ice from outside,” Hannibal said shakily, clasping his leg, “It will chill the wound, we will be fine.” Will clattered from his side. He looked around the house for Anthony, any sign of him. Then pulled a large icicle from the roof and rushed inside. 

When he sat himself back by his side, he knew Hannibal was dead. His eyes were glassy, his hand hung loosely on the chair. The opera still played, the candles still burnt, but Hannibal was dead and Will wasn't sure what to do or where to go or how he'd continue on. 

Will woke up, ran out of his bedroom and threw up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter being posted for Fuller Feast, so there will be a delay for the rest of the chapters. I hope you all enjoyed!


	4. A Letter and a Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's getting GAYer.  
> Sorry for the delay, this chapter had to go through some heavy edits aaaand it's very long.. Just know this story is not dropped! I'm still super actively editing and adding.  
> Thank you all for your patience, enjoy :D

A bullet grazed Hannibal’s hip on Tuesday. Will jangled the keys to his house door almost four weeks later. He had always had nightmares about killing, but for the first time in a while, he fantasized about killing. Anthony, the man who had left his therapist gasping for breath, had seemed to disappear. People who knew him were sparse, and those who did didn’t seem to care for the man much. Most had lost track of where he had been for years, including his parents, who lived off food stamps in Michigan. 

Will closed the door, letting his dogs surround him. After dinner, he slid into bed, rounding his back against the mattress. His alarm blinked at him as he sunk his head into his pillow. Something crumpled against him. Will’s head shot up, reaching for the thing that had laid on his pillow. It was an envelope. He switched on a light, turning it, looking for a sender. It was blank. Whoever sent this didn’t go through the postal system, but found his house and manually placed it on his pillow. He opened it with his fingers, pulling out a letter. He held it closer to the light.

My dear,   
It began in large curly script.  
I haven't been able to stop thinking of you since our first meeting. So, I wanted to thank you for that. I also wanted to thank you for missing me so many times with your gun. It would’ve been pretty sad if I would’ve got caught then and there. I think that proves someone on high is looking out for me. Or maybe it was fate? Or maybe it was you being awfully awfully nice.. When I’m around you, Love, I am sin. The feelings you’ve given me are intoxicating, my mind is crowded, I wish I could talk to you.   
The handwriting had gotten progressively worse, by this point Will read sentences twice to make sure of what they meant.  
I’d love to get to know you a little better, I can already tell we’ve got a bit in common! If we do meet again (and I’m sure we will) you can’t bring that friend of yours with you. I can tell he’s bad for you. He may seem friendly, but he’s toxic. Trust me. 

Oh- I’m jealous love! Whatever relationship you have with this man, end it. 

Lovely, I want you to know that I will release you from all of this. And you will relieve my mind of the nasty thoughts you give it, late at night. You are so terrible, teasing me like this! Don’t try to cover up your dirty spells with those shy brown eyes, I can see right through you!   
See you soon? Anthony.

Will stared at the letter, his eyes pulsing in and out of focus. He felt like he was standing on active train tracks, sweating grease. He tried to pull himself together, but the letter had knocked him off guard. He was a target and he was not safe. Pushing waves of anxiety deep into his gut, Will picked up his phone.

Jack arrived at Will’s house an hour after he called about the letter. Will sat glassy eyed in a chair facing the couch where his Dream Hannibal died for him. He sheepishly scooted around, reaching for an advil. Zeller, and Price huddled around the letter.

“Well,” Zeller said “The note is written on just a scratch sheet of paper, but the envelope is much fancier.”

Zeller looked at it closer. “You know how some envelopes can be like 3 cents and some can be like 20 million dollars? Well, our killer, Anthony, he went with the 20 million dollar one.”

“What does that have to do with finding our guy?” Jack asked.

“Well..”Jimmy said excitedly “Some expensive envelopes have branding on them, to show which company they’re produced by. Since this one seems to be newly bought.. We could probably do a search and see where he might have bought it from!”

“Good. Then let’s get back.” Jack said. Will wandered after them, sweating slightly as he passed by the couch. Jack raised a finger.

“Will. I meant to tell you. Hannibal was released from the hospital yesterday night. Doctor’s said he couldn’t drive for now, so I gave him a ride home. Now, while we run back to the lab you may want to-”

“Yes.” Will interrupted, kicking himself. He completely forgot Hannibal’s release day, he should have been there. “I’ll drop by and say ‘Hello.’” Jack patted him on the back. 

“I’ll call you when we got an address.” 

\---

Will shook at the entrance, nostalgia washing over him as he examined the house for the first time in weeks. His fingers grasped around the knocker, and with a deep breath, he struck the dark wooden door. Hannibal swung the door open with a half-smile. Will breathed a sigh of relief, watching it reflect in Hannibal’s eyes.

“Will.” He smiled, “Thank you for stopping by.” Will took a moment to look at him. He was definitely the same man who lay on that hospital bed, his aura of control and calm still coated thickly over him. He was refined once again, wearing a white shirt tucked into his pants and a rose red vest. He stood against a well crafted cane. The apron, which hung around his hips, had a dark pattern he had never noticed that complimented his form nicely. His eyes moved back up.

“It’s good to see you.” He stuttered. Hannibal replied with a smile, and welcomed him in. Will rounded over to one of the couches, the gentle clop of Hannibal’s cane following him. 

“I’m sorry I have completely forgotten my manners with my time away. May I take your coat?” Will wanted to hang it up himself, moving for him must be a burden. Hannibal stretched a hand, and a new thought convinced him declining may bruise Dr.Lecter’s pride. With a little “Thank you.” He handed over the coat.

“So.” Hannibal walked back with the necks of two glasses balanced in one hand. “Was it the Brunello Di Montalcino that last spoke to your taste buds, Will?”

“Was that the one you served with the torte?” Will asked. Hannibal gave him a look.

“The torte with the pomegranate glaze? And the cranberries? Or were they tiny demon grapes..” Will said.

“I believe you mean the red currants-” Hannibal replied with a smile, “Yes, that’s it.”

“Then yeah.” Will laughed. Hannibal poured a deep red wine into Will’s glass, and gave it to him with a smile.

“Speaking of sweets. I was just about to make a few caramel sauteed apple slices as an afternoon snack. Nothing fancy.”

“If I knew I could have an ‘afternoon snack’ before lunch I’d come over early more often.” Will said. Hannibal chuckled, his laugh filled with a sticky sweet humbleness, which soaked Will’s mind in something delicious.

“I will go prepare the apples then.” Hannibal said with a grin, “Please, make yourself at home, and feel free to stop by the kitchen.” Will nodded. He sat for a minute, listening to chamber music drift in from the kitchen. He idled until it was turned up, so that he could no longer hear the water rushing from the faucet in the kitchen. He stood up with a sigh.

Will wandered the living room idly. Every once in awhile he’d pass by the kitchen and steal glances of Hannibal. Hannibal calmly adjusting his apron. Hannibal expertly skinning an apple between his fingers and laying the skins aside. Hannibal mixing sugars with an intimate sort of concentration that Will was unused to. Then looking up to Will standing by the door, and raising an eyebrow.   
That was the last time he passed by the kitchen, he felt something rushing through him from his glance. Something deep and warm like cooking oil, frying his thoughts.

He found his way to Hannibal’s desk. It seemed neat, a pencil, ruler and charcoal, among other things, sat to the left. Right within Hannibal’s reach, if the man had been sitting besides him. Which he wasn't. Will sighed harshly. A folder was to the right of Hannibal’s supplies. It was unlabeled. He must have forgotten to put it away. Will looked back to the kitchen, the sound of chamber music clambering out of the room. He looked back at the folder, slipping his hand inside and opened it as silently as he could manage. 

Drawings were neatly stacked inside the folder. The first one he had seen Hannibal working on before.

“Apollo strumming as tunelessly as a God can on his harp, lazily watching the sun rise.” Hannibal had said, while darkening the shadow under Apollo’s foot. The drawings were insanely well done, almost freakishly lifelike. 

Will flipped to another one, careful not to mess up the order. This one had a man staring at his reflection in a lake. The next featured some sort of king crying. A third of a man crouching before a bloodied cloth. Will ran a finger over the side of the drawings. 

Hannibal’s next sketches became progressively less linear. He had drawn a large elk, like the ones in his nightmares. It was hyper realistic, the muscles on its leg glinted off the page. He flipped to the next sketch, feeling a drip of sweat run down his forehead.

The sketches had shifted to faces. A chubby man Will had seen Hannibal subtly rushing out of the room two or three months back. Another in the corner, thin and wiry, who held a songbird in his palms. Then other people he assumed were patients. A few of Jack and sometimes his wife. One particularly detailed drawing of Alana Bloom, facing away with her arms wrapping her sides. Abigail had a few sketches too, not enough to be considered creepy, just her slim, pale face.

Then there was Will. His pictures felt different than the others. Most of the other sketches had only a few expressions. They were sad, or stone cold, some had little smiles but they weren’t truly detailed like the rest of the sketch. Almost as if Hannibal had added their emotions in as an afterthought. But in Will’s. He had drawn him on his couch, his legs close to his chest, and a huge blushing smile erupting from ear to ear, barely hidden by his knees. There was another in a corner, just a portrait, but this time with a worried expression, scarily accurate. There were some where Will took the place of great men in famous myths, and others that were much more simplistic. Will catnapping on Hannibal's’ loveseat or taking a sip of tea and crossing his legs. It was endearing in a way, to get such special attention in his sketches.

Will shut the folder, feeling hot blood rush up to his cheeks. He heard the sizzle of caramel, and stepped away from the desk. 

Walking innocently back to the couch, he listened. Hannibal’s music had begun to intensify. The whips of the song and the thoughts of those drawings fought for his brain’s attention. He blinked hard, scolding himself and finishing his wine.

“Hey, Hannibal?” He asked, his voice picking up an octave.

“Yes Will?” Hannibal said from the kitchen, the music turning down only slightly.

“You wouldn’t happen to have anything stronger than this?” He could hear him chuckle.

“It’s barely 2:00.” Hannibal said. He got up from the chair, wandering to the kitchen. Hannibal was stirring and tossing apple slices in the pan, he pointed a wooden spoon at him with a smirk.

“I’m sorry Will but I cannot enable the beginnings of an addiction, wine will just have to do.” Will sighed, leaning against the kitchen doorway. The buzzing dizziness in his head quieted with the chamber music and the sizzle of the pan. He watched his steady grip on it’s handle. The drawing shifted back in his mind. Hannibal was his friend. Will grabbed his own hand and steadied it.

“Would you mind handing me the raspberries from the refrigerator.” Hannibal said, turning the heat down. Will nodded, shaking himself, and grabbed a carton of the fat berries. Hannibal thanked him, and poured the caramel sauteed apples onto two expensive looking plates. With the extra caramel on the pan, he lightly sauteed the raspberries, and divided them out on the plates as well. Will watched him glide to the refrigerator, get a sealed glass of homemade whipped cream, and add a dollop onto the side of the plate. He finished with a crescent stripe of syrup on the the plate’s edge. He handed one to Will.

“I hope it isn’t too sweet.” Will smiled at the plate, drawing a fork from a drawer. 

“It looks delicious Hannibal, thank you.” Will said. Will sat down in the dining room, etching this scene in his mind. Hannibal by his side, pouring him more wine in the calming maroon house. The whole place smelled of apples and raspberries. He forgot how much he missed peaceful afternoons like these. He took a bite of an apple, and without fully contemplating how ungodly delicious it was took another. Hannibal had taken a seat besides him, eating slice by slice slowly, like he was calculating each bite.

“This is really good.” Will said after demolishing most of the apples and all of the raspberries that once covered his plate. Hannibal smiled fondly at him.

“I’m happy to hear that Will.” Will nodded at his food.

“Ah- I forgot to ask you.” Hannibal started “Was the young man who shot me apprehended?” Will stopped chewing, guilt rushed up his back like a fever.

“Not yet Hannibal, I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize Will.” Hannibal said cooly, stabbing a raspberry with his fork.

“Our killer, Anthony, is oddly slippery. Like an eel. At this point I’m not even sure if he’s an expert at dodging police or if he has an infinite supply of dumb luck.” Will dipped an apple slice in whipped cream, huffing, “He was able to plant a letter in my house.”

“A letter?” Hannibal said, “Do you have it with you?”

“Jack took it in.” Will said. Hannibal chewed thoughtfully.

“Do you remember what it said?” He asked.

“Yes,” Will replied “He called me his sin. He thanked me for not shooting him, and.” He chuckled “I think he was jealous of you.”

“Jealous?” Hannibal smiled “What on Earth does he have to be jealous of?” Will scoffed, there were a lot of answers to that question.

“Well, I think it’s because of our, friendship.”

Hannibal paused, then filled that pause with a grin, “He thinks we're intimate.” Will nodded, and the two laughed.

“That’s what it seems like.” Will said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. 

“A jealous man is a dangerous one.” Hannibal replied, picking up his cane and walking to Will’s side to pick up his plate. Will smiled, he needed this. Hannibal filled an empty spot in his life. His aura of calm and control kept him from spiraling off the rails.

His phone rang. Hannibal had returned from the kitchen sink, and stood at the table side. Will gave him an apologetic look, which Hannibal waved off with a tilt of the head.

“Hello?” Will said.

“Will, we’ve got a lead. We’re outside Lecter’s.” Jack asked through the phone.

“I’ll be right out.” Will hung up. He turned back to Hannibal.

“Jack has a lead. He needs me.” 

“No need to explain to me Will, I am your friend. Will I be seeing you again for therapy?” Hannibal asked. Will gave a nod, walking to his coat and slipping it on.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Hannibal opened the door for him, gave him a satisfied look, then closed it.


	5. A Letter and an Interview

“The envelope.” Jimmy Price began as Will stepped into the car, “Isn’t wildly rare, it's made for classy occasions. It was sold to him at an arts and crafts store called ‘Knit your Heart Strings’, their emblem is printed on the back.”  
“We’re headed there now. Tell me if you get any- ideas on this case.” Jack said.

Will nodded, pressing his head against the car’s window. The cozy knitting shop, nestled between a dog park, an Irish pub, and a cream colored breakfast diner, had taken a while to get to. Will had planned to use to the time to contemplate the case, but instead fell into a daze against the car window, half asleep, half awake. His phone vibrated in his pocket as they arrived, Will let it ring. Jack pushed the door open, leading Jimmy and Will inside. The women manning the counter was sipping tea quietly and checking her phone. She was tall, dark, and curvy, her braids wound up in a bun by rainbow colored yarn. She turned to the brooding gang with a smile.

“Hi, welcome to Knit Your Heart Strings, anything I can help you with?” She said, her voice light as she eyed the group. Jack walked directly to the counter, flashing his badge while greeting her. 

“FBI.” He began, “My colleagues and I were wondering about a certain envelope you sell here.” He motioned to Price, who pulled the paper case for Will’s letter from his coat pocket and slid it to the woman. She nodded, then pointed to a small cardboard display of envelopes.

“Do you have any records of customers who buy these envelopes. Particularly with the first name ‘Anthony’?” Jack asked. The clerk’s smile dropped suddenly, the high tone of her voice plummeting to a medium low.

“Wait, Anthony?” She said.

“You know him?” 

“He came in once in awhile, I made him coffee. We talked.” She stuttered out. Jimmy took out a pad of paper and a pen.

“Is there anything you can tell us about him? Anything at all?” Jack said. Will closed his eyes, listening, ignoring his phone buzzing again deep in his pockets.

“He was tall, skinny, white. He liked acoustic guitar and beer, but not much else.” She paused, swallowing her pride, “I asked him on a date once, to the bar right around the corner. He agreed, but..” She laughed to herself “The man’s gayer than a pack of rainbows on parade.” ‘Obviously,’ Will thought ‘Anyone could gather that much from the letter.’ She put her hand on her side.

“I was trying to have a conversation with him, and it was like talking to a rock. He kept looking at some guy-

“Do you remember anything about him?” Jack asked.

“Brown hair, I think. It was styled really nicely. He was with another guy. Redhead, with freckles. I was pretty sure they were a couple, so I was real surprised when Anthony ditched me to flirt with him.” She said. Price scribbled into a notepad.

“Did you find out the other man’s name?”

“It was Paul. When Anthony finally came back he was all he spoke about.”

Paul. Paul Raton. The man chained up and murdered a week later. The group exchanged wary glances as Will’s phone vibrated for the third time against his thigh. Will sighed, excusing himself to wander to the back of the room and check it.

Two missed calls from Hannibal. Will’s hands shook as he redialed, pressing the cold screen to his ear. It rang two times before an answer.

“Will. Hello.” Hannibal said. His voice was a tense whisper. 

“What’s wrong?” Will asked. He could hear his breaths through the phone.

“Are you still with the FBI?” He finally said.

“Yes.” Will responded, glancing back at Crawford and Price.

“Could you ask them to come to my home. Anthony is here. He’s stolen a kitchen knife.”   
Will hung up immediately, suddenly becoming keenly aware of the blooding pounding through his veins, and his gun that was left in Jack’s car. He jogged over to Jack, and tried to ignore the worry stuck deep in his throat.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Once again I have been working on this for a very long time, and although the story is fully planned, I haven't finished writing it. However, for Fuller Feast I'm releasing a chapter a day! There may be a delay after the last day of fuller feast on updates, just because I'm making sure each chapter is well written, so I will update you on whenever a chapter is added on my tumblr: http://pichuswablu.tumblr.com/
> 
> Thanks again for the support, and feel free to share any criticisms or comments!


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